Poor Joey
by Kalarin
Summary: Joey wakes up from one nightmare only to find himself in another. This is not to be taken seriously at all.


Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Monopoly.

Joey Wheeler walked down the floral wallpapered hallway of the hotel. Recently, he, Yugi, and all the other top-ranking duelists had been invited to participate in yet another Duel Monsters tournament hosted at the Park Place Hotel in Monopolis. This particular hotel was quite expensive, with eight gathering rooms, two Olympic-sized swimming pools, and its own school district. The only person who was rich enough to be able to even think of renting out this hotel for two weeks (other than Seto Kaiba) was Maximillion Pegasus. Although Pegasus had earned a bit of a bad reputation during his Duelist Kingdom days, nobody could pass up an opportunity to put their dueling skills to the test and possibly snag the title of "King of Games."

The fact that the grand prize was 1,000,000 may have had something to do with it as well.

Of course, Joey and Yugi had to bring their friends along, and of course they all had to share a room, because of course Pegasus (or any other tournament host, for that matter) isn't going to rent rooms to non-duelists. After they had their fill of the pool, the friends spent the night chatting about school, Duel Monsters, their summer vacations, why Yami isn't allowed to use the car, and other related topics. Finally, at around midnight, everyone quit talking and passed out, snoring, except for Joey. Joey got bored, and when Joey gets bored, he gets hungry, hence his late-night meandering through the dim halls, in search of the all-night buffet.

"Sure is quiet in here," he thought, rounding the corner. Somehow, he'd thought it might be noisier this late at night. After all, with a hotel full of teenagers and young adults, there's probably only a three percent chance that anyone's going to bed before midnight. The only sounds so far were the shuffling of his feet on the green carpeted floor.

As he advanced toward the elevator, he heard a snort. He snapped his head around, anxious to know who dared to laugh at the oh-so-tough Joey Wheeler. He then checked his shoe to make sure there was no toilet paper stuck to the bottom, then his fly to make certain that it was closed.

No one in the hall, no toilet paper, and the barn door was shut tight. Joey continued down the hall.

Until, of course, he heard the snort again, accompanied by whispering and barely audible snickering.

"All right, who's out dere?" he shouted, as he spun around.

The whispering stopped abruptly, but Joey had heard enough to pinpoint its location. He traced the sound to a smallish room to his right. The closed mahogany door sported a slim, tinted glass window and brass letters spelling out the word "Lounge." While it was not by any means a large window, the glass section was just wide enough for a lounger to view Joey, walking down the hallway, a droplet of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"Some nerve," Joey muttered, stomping up to the door. As he drew closer, he could hear a nasal voice whisper, "Did he hear us?"

"Yer darn right I heard ya!" Joey shouted, flinging the door open.

The scene with which he was met was somewhat of a surprise. Most of the silk-shaded lamps in the room were off, casting deep shadows on the red carpet and off-white vinyl wall. Only the lamp on the marble inlaid end table next to the couch remained lit. Weevil Underwood was lying on the oversized red velvet couch, covered by one of the hotel's white sheets, head and shoulders visible. He was sprawled, glaring up at Joey, next to a long bump under the blanket (possibly a row of pillows). His green jacket was tossed casually onto the back of the couch.

"Do you mind? We were kind of in the middle of something," Weevil griped.

"Of what? Pretendin' to be a bum?" Joey retorted. "What do you mean by 'we,' anyway? Is Raptor here or somethin'?"

"Weevil, please tell me that's not Wheeler's voice I hear," a voice rasped from under the sheet as the bump turned over. Joey's eyes wandered over to the white and red sleeveless trenchcoat slung over the far end of the couch, then back to the head of brown hair emerging from under the blanket...

Joey woke up with a scream. He bolted upright, looking madly around the dark room. No couch, no hotel sheet, and most importantly, no Weevil in sight. "Oh, thank God."

"It's okay, Joseph," a low voice addressed him. "It was all a nightmare."

"Yeah...Just a night...mare?" Joey turned left, then downwards to the source of the voice and found Kaiba staring up at him.

"Kaiba?! What are you...How did...Wha..." Joey sputtered, silently vowing to lay off the Burger World Super Burgers if he survived this heart attack. He happened to glance at the night table, on which sat a photograph in a sterling silver frame. The photo depicted Joey, in a black tuxedo, holding the hands of a white-clad Kaiba, his satin-look trenchcoat billowing behind him. The two stood under a white arch, decked with red roses.

As Joey sat, slack-jawed, a small boy with blond hair and blue eyes approached the bed. "Mommy, why is Daddy acting so weird?" he asked, climbing on the bed.

"I don't know, kid," Kaiba answered, as Joey passed out.

--

I hope this was funny.


End file.
